


Waves

by ChaChaH, ChimericalSerenity



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Cliche, Light Angst, M/M, Oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaChaH/pseuds/ChaChaH, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChimericalSerenity/pseuds/ChimericalSerenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima finally understood. He had never actively went around searching for romance novels, but every single one he had come across depicted love as a sudden, catastrophic thing that crashed into people like a tidal wave. For Midorima, the epiphany came in a small, gentle ebb; it washed over him so gradually that he only realised the tangibility of it when the wave crested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves

A sudden jolt caused Midorima to be rudely ripped out of his train of thought and he looked around, startled at the change of scenery. The cart now moved uphill, tilting his centre of gravity, the unfamiliar landscape unsettling him. Surprise ripped the question out of him, causing it to sound more like an accusation than a question, “Why are we taking the long route?”

 

Under the burning sun with sweat covering every inch of his skin, Takao looked back at Midorima and raised an eyebrow. “You told me to remember?” Takao panted as he started pedalling while standing up. “At lunch you said you wanted to take the long way home.”

 

Even without exerting himself, Midorima could feel sweat accumulating on his forehead. Studying Takao’s profile, he realized belatedly that his sweat had soaked through Takao’s shirt, staining it dark. Feeling the sense of guilt creep up on him, he sighed, “Takao, you didn’t have to do this.”

 

Surprised at what Midorima said, Takao looked back at Midorima’s seated figure and grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Jokingly, he said, “Is Shin-chan worried about me?”

 

“As if,” Midorima huffed, cheeks reddening just a little bit more. “It would be troublesome for me if you died of heatstroke.”

 

Takao issued a laugh, undeterred, ‘so you are worried!’

 

Midorima rolled his eyes, opting not to answer. Spying a food stall on the side of the road, he asked Takao to stop the cart before stepping out of it and walking over, purchasing a bottle of water. He handed a couple of coins to the shop owner, thanking him for the water before walking back to the cart and silently handing the bottle to Takao.

 

Not expecting the generosity from his teammate, Takao took the bottle of water from Midorima’s grasp and smiled. “Shin-chan is too kind.”

 

He had meant what he said. Midorima always did small things like these for Takao, which made being friends with him a little more bearable.

 

Midorima resituated himself inside the cart. His heart beat faster against his chest and he could feel his face getting warmer by the second. Takao’s open smile had left him breathless, and selfishly, he wanted to be the sole reason for that smile. He wanted-no, he needed Takao.

 

Midorima finally understood. He had never actively went around searching for romance novels, but every single one he had come across depicted love as a sudden, catastrophic thing that crashed into people like a tidal wave. For Midorima, the epiphany came in a small, gentle ebb; it washed over him so gradually that he only realised the tangibility of it when the wave crested.

 

Midorima hadn’t given much thought to it at first as the feelings of desire and love were foreign to him. But now, the way his mouth seemed to want to quirk upwards whenever that annoying voice greeted him early in the morning and the sudden urge to hold the smaller one’s hand whenever they walked side by side was fully explainable.

 

He never understood it. Not fully, anyway. But now as he watched Takao pedal, with hair unattractively plastered to the side of his face and his mouth agape, gasping for breath, all the puzzle pieces fit together perfectly. He loved Takao.

 

Time sped by after his realization, and in a deceptively short amount of time, the cart slowed, having reached Midorima’s house. Getting out of the cart, Midorima turned to face Takao, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Shin-chan. Thanks for the water.” Takao said with a stunning grin, stopping the words that were on the tip of Midorima’s tongue.

 

Looking at that beautiful smile once more, Midorima couldn’t help what had happened next. The frenzied thoughts that had been disturbing his mind all this time filtered out his mouth in short, simple sentence.

 

“I love you.”

 

Takao laughed, and his laugh sounded amazing, but the words following it were not, “I never knew you could joke, Shin-chan.”

 

Midorima blanched, berating himself for his single-minded track of thought. He never actually considered what Takao’s reaction would be to his words. Obviously, Takao just had to misunderstand him. Sighing, Midorima elaborated, ‘I’m not joking, Takao.’

 

Takao noticed the serious aura emitting from Midorima, and his chuckles came to an immediate halt.

 

“Midorima, what are you saying?” Takao questioned, his eyes widened with surprise. Of all the things he expected Midorima to say, a confession didn’t come close at all.

 

“I’m telling you that I love you, fool. How many times do you want me to say it?” Midorima snapped, a little shaken at Takao’s response. It was hard acting like it didn’t bother him. He had to stop his hands from shaking with nerves; this wasn’t how he expected it to go.

 

“I-” Takao didn’t know what to say. He felt dizzy. He wasn’t prepared for something like this to happen. With a dry croak, he told Midorima that he’ll see him tomorrow and hurriedly pedalled away.

 

Midorima wanted to call out to him, his heart lurched in his chest; this wasn’t supposed to happen. He had been so sure that Takao had liked him back; no friend would do half the things Takao did for Midorima. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he held, Midorima trudged the remaining steps up to his room, offering a tight lipped smile to his mother on the way. Physically sinking onto his mattress, he huffed a soundless sigh before closing his eyes and gratefully slipping away into oblivion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Love hurt, Midorima realized, but not in the way it was described. There hadn’t been any dramatic tears or verbal fights akin the generic young adult romances. It was more a dull ever-present ache in his gut, a sense of edginess and unease that brushed his usual routine into a shade of monochrome.

 

Takao hadn’t showed up at his house in the morning. The silence he had to endure whilst walking to school was deafening. Without Takao and his usual chatter which followed him on the way to school made the pain in his heart intensify. He needed to talk to him and make things right. He didn't want to jeopardize their friendship over something so trivial. Yet, a small part of him was relieved. The pain of hiding his feelings, pretending that he didn’t crave the others touch, it was all too much to handle.

 

However, the resolve that strengthened within him on the way to school crumbled at the sight Takao. The black-haired teen didn’t even look the slightest out of place, and Midorima was half expecting Takao to light up at his presence and intone the usual, ‘yo, Shin-chan!’ However, he didn’t even react at his presence.

 

Swallowing dryly, Midorima walked stiffly to his seat before sitting down, averting his eyes so he didn’t have to see Takao’s smile. It disturbed him that while he was losing his mind over what had occurred yesterday and yet Takao was acting like his usual cheery self.

 

The class passed by him in a blur. Though he was usually one hundred percent focused throughout lessons, he realized that at the end of this lecture, the lines on his notebook were completely unfilled. But, Midorima didn’t have the energy to dredge up enough emotion to care.

 

The rest of the school day passed in the same fashion, with the shorter teen looking horribly at ease, ignoring Midorima’s increasingly unsure glances at him. The thought of Takao clung to him insistently, reluctant to leave his mind.

 

By the end of the day, Midorima was emotionally exhausted. The only thing he wanted to do was to coop up at home and rewind. No more pretending. No more worrying about Takao. Hefting his bag up onto his shoulder, he tucked his chair in exhausted, sighing at the thought of the long walk home alone.

 

A little too preoccupied in his misery, Midorima didn’t realize a figure approaching. At least not until a hand grabbed down hard onto his shoulder and he was pulled back almost violently.

 

Gasping in surprise, Midorima turned around, only to come face to face with Miyaji.

 

Miyaji's brow furrowed, and he soon pieced together where the green-haired player was heading. Scowling, he said, “Why the hell are you not headed the other way to practise, huh? Damn brat. Do you want Kimura to throw pineapples at you again?”

 

“He probably wants to,” Midorima grumbled, before grudgingly following Miyaji, feeling unusually apathetic about being pelted with pineapples. Usually, he’d be more agitated, but today, it seemed like relief from the constant ache in his chest.

 

Seeing Midorima’s lack of response, Miyaji sighed irritably, before saying, “This isn’t about Takao, is it?”

 

Shocked out of his misery, Midorima looked upwards, eyes flicking to meet Miyaji’s narrowed eyes, before uttering a little stupidly, “What?”

 

Miyaji continued, rolling his eyes a little, “Honestly, Takao’s been out of it for the whole day. He was all moody and when we asked about you he completely evaded the subject. Usually you two are practically joined at the hip, and when you guys aren’t, Takao rants about you to us. Did you guys fight?”

 

Of course. If, hypothetically, his platonic best friend confessed to him, Midorima would feel more disgusted than uncomfortable. Takao being moody and avoiding him was to be expected Sighing, Midorima’s spirits sank to a new low. He had been stupidly optimistic. Why would Takao ever love someone like him? Realizing that Miyaji required a response and was staring at him expectantly, Midorima bit his lip, looking askance, before half-heartedly mumbling, “Well, sort of.”

 

Miyaji sighed once more and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Listen, whatever is going on between you to, I want you to solve it quick. I can’t let your feelings affect our gameplay, you understand?”

 

Feeling suitably chastised, Midorima nodded stiffly before asking, voice a little awkward and vulnerable at the request, “Do you mind if skip practise once? I really don’t want to face Takao yet. I need to sort things out personally for now.”

 

“I’m letting you off just this once.” Miyaji reluctantly said after a few moments of hesitation.

 

“Thank you,” Midorima let out a breath of relief; just thinking about running around the court made him feel lightheaded.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Home was like physical relief to Midorima. As soon as he stepped through the doorstep, he peeled off his restricting uniform before slipping into bed sighing at the feel of the soft covers against his worn body. Not only was he mentally tired, but physical weariness was a huge part of it as well.

 

The Takao-sized hole in him would not get better, Midorima realized. He could fill it with anything, anyone, but it wouldn’t be the same. Huffing a wry laugh at his own stupidity, he realized the grievousness of his mistake. He could have kept his stupid mouth shut, and Takao would be home with him right now, doing homework alongside him and supplicating and endless stream of chatter. Midorima used to find it annoying, but today, his heart ached for what he couldn’t have.

 

Steeling his nerves, Midorima gritted his teeth in determination. He would fix this if it were the last thing he ever did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, things took on a very similar routine, and though Midorima had been actively searching for Takao whenever he was free to, the dark-haired teen was nowhere to be found. As the day passed gradually, Midorima’s urgency swelled, until at last, when the bell rang, Midorima unwittingly shot a hand out to grab at Takao’s, saying, “Oi, we have to talk.”

 

Takao didn’t verbally reply, but instead, nodded, a sharp jerky movement that looked unnatural and wrong on Takao’s face.

 

Needing to escape the curious eyes surrounding them, Midorima’s grip tightened on Takao’s wrist and pulled the shorter teen towards the park that was located quite near their school. Takao was uncharacteristically silent, not once complaining at the fast pace that Midorima set, wrist hanging limp in Midorima’s clenched fist.

 

As soon as the pair reached their intended destination, Takao roughly pulled his hand away and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

 

Neither of them said a word. Midorima studied Takao carefully, but the latter avoided his gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes. Takao seemed nervous, worrying his lower lip and breathing slowly, a movement that shamefully drew Midorima’s eyes in. Pursing his lips, he looked down at his shoes. He was being inappropriate. This whole affair had been inappropriate. He should’ve just kept his feelings to himself, maybe they would have disappeared eventually and wouldn’t have his friend-his only proper friend-be uncomfortable around him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Midorima finally said after a few moments of hesitation. “If I were put under the same situation I’d be pretty disgusted too.” Midorima forced out. Even though this wasn’t what he wanted, he had to say it. “I just-I shouldn’t have said anything; I made a huge mistake. I never wanted...’ Midorima trailed off, gesturing nonsensically, ‘this. I want to be friends again. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

“Nothing more, nothing less?” Takao asked slowly, as if wasn’t believing what he had been told. “What the fuck does that mean?!”

 

Midorima looked at Takao in surprise, a little startled by that reaction, before, averting his eyes, “I mean...if you don’t want me then I’ll respect that. I’ll keep my distance.”

 

With a heavy heart Midorima turned on his heel, forcing himself to take the steps away from Takao, hyper aware that this would probably be the last time he would converse with the teen. The pain hurt like knives, stabbing and attacking him at all his weak points; it was worse than when they had lost in the Winter Cup.

 

A hand grabbing onto his elbow is what stopped him from leaving. “You never listen to what other people have to say huh?” The bitter voice said.

 

Midorima turned back to face his teammate and snapped, more than a little pissed at Takao’s response, “What do you want from me? We’ve already established that you don’t want me to be around. Just let me go already!”

 

“I haven’t established anything at all! You didn’t give me a chance to speak and you kept assuming things about me. I don’t feel that way about you!” Takao said, frustration colouring his tone a vibrant hue. Every trace of nervousness had disappeared from his features; they had been replaced by anger and frustration.

 

Midorima could only stare blankly at Takao. His heart raced as Takao’s words slowly sunk in, and he swallowed the lump in his throat and stuttered out, “Wh-what?”

 

“I like you too, goddamnit!” Takao said, face flushed with anger and embarrassment, before he reached up with his hands and grabbed Midorima's lapels, pulling him down and roughly connecting their lips.

 

As soon as their lips connected however, Takao sagged wrapping his arms around Midorima’s neck to support himself and turning the kiss into a slower, sweeter press. Humming in contentment at the soft texture of the other’s lips, Midorima wrapped his arms loosely around his waist, straightening his back and pulling the other teen flush against him, relishing the warmth and intimacy of their position.

 

Takao pushed gently at Midorima before saying, lips only an inch apart from Midorima’s, hot breath washing over Midorima when he spoke, “I...I’ve never done this before.”

 

Biting his lip to contain a smile, Midorima ducked his head in slight before replying, “Do you really think I have either?”

 

Takao laughed, a relieved, free and happy sound in the shared air between them, and Midorima felt that his heart was going to burst with endearment. Cupping the latter’s face with his hands, Midorima let a smile grace his face, before his whispered almost shyly in Takao’s ear, “We’ll take it slow.”

 

“I like the sound of that,” Takao grinned, before pressing his lips to Midorima’s once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
